


Position Of Power

by eadunne2



Category: Captain America (Movies) RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Awards, Bodyguard, Control Issues, Dancing, Discussion of Labels, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone is sassy, Fluff, Hand Jobs, Hello Kitty apron, Hurt/Comfort, I cannot help myself, Interviews, Light Angst, Lovely Speech, M/M, Oral Sex, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Sappy, Seb gets a cold, Self-Conscious Chris & Seb, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, actions that may read as internalized homophobia, adorable idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 15:31:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5422328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eadunne2/pseuds/eadunne2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When things don’t go exactly to plan, Chris gets snippy, easily frustrated, and it’d be fine if that was who Chris was as a person, but Seb has a sneaking suspicion that beneath that anxious, moderate exterior, there’s something more. Something captivating.</p><p>Sebastian tries not to let his mind get carried away with hypotheticals, but the frustrating reality of the matter is that he likes Chris a lot, even with his obsessive tendencies. The guy is funny and charming and a little weird. He’s got interviewers eating out of his hand one second then talking softly to his ma on the phone the next. Worst of all, he treats Sebastian well, like a person, a friend even, which is more than any of his previous employers had done. Chris is firm and kind and determined and solid and Seb wants to take him apart with his mouth.</p><p>Like that’ll ever happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Position Of Power

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Позиция силы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8001160) by [Heidel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heidel/pseuds/Heidel)



> For whydouwantaname.tumblr.com. Thanks for the help and encouragement!
> 
> Sappy shmoop. 
> 
> No disrespect intended to the humans in the story.

He looks fucking flawless as usual, all muscle and old-world charm, and Sebastian takes a moment to be grateful for his job. What a gift that he’s paid to stare at Chris Evans.

Not to say that it’s an easy job. Sebastian has done personal security before, for actors even, but this guy takes the cake in terms of idiosyncrasies. Or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s a damn control freak.

On the surface, it’s a good thing. Chris is super organized, his home is spotless, he’s punctual and well groomed - a perfect client. And they haven’t worked together for very long, so Seb shouldn’t really be judging but...it drives him fucking nuts.

A major job requirement in personal security is reading people, and Sebastian is good at his job. He’s familiar with the reality that the people who cling hardest to control are the people that most fear losing it. When things don’t go exactly to plan, Chris gets snippy, easily frustrated, and it’d be fine if that was who Chris was as a person, but Seb has a sneaking suspicion that beneath that anxious, moderate exterior, there’s something more. Something captivating.

Sebastian tries not to let his mind get carried away with hypotheticals, but the frustrating reality of the matter is that he likes Chris a lot, even with his obsessive tendencies. The guy is funny and charming and a little weird. He’s got interviewers eating out of his hand one second then talking softly to his ma on the phone the next. Worst of all, he treats Sebastian well, like a person, a friend even, which is more than any of his previous employers had done. Chris is firm and kind and determined and solid and Seb wants to take him apart with his mouth.

Like that’ll ever happen.

As Chris walks out off stage Sebastian falls into step beside him, eyes scanning the hallway they pass into. “That went well,” he comments absently, ignoring how Chris smells like linen and sandalwood. 

“It did,” he replies, checking his phone. “But it ran long.” His voice is a little harder as he says, “We better not be late for dinner.”

“Relax Chris, the producers think the sun shines out of your ass. They won’t care if you’re a few minutes late.”

“That’s not the point Sebastian.”

“Didn’t realize there was one,” Seb mutters under his breath. He texts the alert to send Chris’s body double out the front door as the two of them slip out the back and into the cool air. In an attempt to give Chris some space, Sebastian sits shotgun the limo, discussing routes with the driver while Chris takes a call from his family. 

A few minutes later though, there’s a rap on the glass and Seb turns in his seat to see Chris practically leaning through the divider, a strangely soft expression on his face. “You got my family Christmas gifts?” 

Seb rolls his eyes. “They weren’t supposed to open them yet! Christmas isn’t for weeks.” 

“They didn’t,” Chris laughs. “My ma just wanted me to tell you thanks.”

“Oh. Of course. They’re lovely people.”

“You’ve only met them twice.”

“True, but your mom gives great advice and your dad’s so funny...I dunno. They made me feel really welcomed.” He feels weirdly vulnerable as he says, “I guess I just wanted to return the favor.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Chris murmurs. He’s looking at Seb in the rearview mirror with something disturbingly close to fondness in his blue eyes.

“That’s kinda the point of gifts, Evans.”

“Yeah. I guess it is.” He retreats into the back, and Seb turns forward, scanning the horizon.

\--

Chris is talking to a woman at the bar and Sebastian is giving them a little extra room out of sheer spite disguised as courtesy. 

There’s a casual ease to the way Chris flirts with her, confident and cool. He’s looks like he knows how beautiful he is. 

Seb wonders if the girl knows it’s an act.

\--

“Where is it?” He sounds panicked.

“What?” Seb mutters distractedly, barely looking up from his phone.

“My tie! It was in the fucking garment bag, I swear…” Chris tears through his backpack, then the bag his suit had been shipped it, irritable and frantic and Seb suddenly realizes he knows exactly where the tie is. 

“Shit, Chris you left it at the house.”

“I did fucking not.”

“Yeah, on the foyer table. I thought you’d decided on another one or I would’ve said something.”

“You should’ve grabbed it anyway!” he shouts and Sebastian bristles.

Hardening his voice, he says, “Watch your tone. If you want help, all you need to do is ask.”

Chris stands up ramrod straight and freezes, color burning in his cheeks. For a moment, Seb wonders if he crossed a line talking to his boss like that, but then he realizes Chris isn’t angry with him. He’s almost completely still, eyes wide and glassy, and his breath is coming in shallow swells, slower now than before. 

And suddenly, Sebastian gets it. 

He crosses to Chris slowly, giving him an out if he needs it. As he unbuttons the collar of Chris’s shirt, knuckles brushing the other man's throat, he says, “You don’t need the tie. This shirt looks fine without it.”

“But-”

“ _You_ look fine without it,” Seb repeats. “Tie or no tie, you’ll be great. Understood?”

“Yeah.” It comes out a sigh. He still looks a little upset, but the panic is gone. 

“Good. Now get going. I’m right behind you.” If his palm lingers on Chris's clavicle a moment too long, neither of them comment.

Chris nods and exits the room with a small smile, and for the first time Seb lets him go on alone, if only for a minute. It’s terribly unprofessional to be sporting a semi at a client’s interview. 

\--

Here’s the thing: People love labels. Top, bottom, Dom, sub, gay, bi, pan, twink, bear, femme, tomboy. But Seb? 

Seb loves one thing. Power.

Not necessarily having power, either. The game, the chase, submitting to someone who’s physically smaller because their personality is so dominant and impressive, or in this case, asserting himself over someone who appears to have all the power...it’s addictive.

Sebastian likes being the person people come apart for, regardless of the roles they play for one another.

But it’s been awhile. 

His last relationship had faded, withered, and neither of them had the guts to end it for far too long. They ignored and evaded until both of them were shells of their former selves, and he still finds some of her more creative insults ringing in his head when he’s not guarding against them, though he knows she wasn’t trying to be malicious. They were both just...trapped. 

It makes him self-conscious, nervous, and when Chris doesn’t say anything about the tie incident, and when he closes off around Sebastian in a way he hadn’t done since they first met, Sebastian finds it difficult to bounce back.

For a bit. Seb’s nothing if not stubborn.

Chris hasn’t been eating, and fucking protein shakes don’t count. Seb doesn’t know if it’s nerves or their change in relationship, or something else entirely but it’s driving him crazy. 

Sebastian watches him from the wings as the actor grins at the flashing cameras. The guy is already freakishly fit, and now his cheeks are just a little too sunken. It makes Seb twitch, anxious, and his chest hurts at the sight of it.

When Chris strolls over, hands in suit pockets and eyes focused somewhere around Sebastian’s sternum, Seb waits until he’s inches away before saying, “I’ll be at your house around five tonight.”

Chris startles. “There’s not an event tonight.”

“No.”

“Then why?” Seb doesn’t respond, so Chris tries another tactic. “I’ll be working out.”

“‘S fine. I have a key, I can let myself in.” He opens the car door for Chris and flips it shut behind him, checking his watch. Two hours. Just enough time. 

\--

“Hoooly shit, what is that smell?” is quickly followed by, “Oh my god what are you wearing?”

Seb turns around to Chris looking fucking edible, sweaty, chest heaving, and his grey shirt is clinging to every line of him. Gorgeous.

“The smell is hamburgers, and this is an apron.”

“It has ruffles.”

“You saying I can’t pull off Hello Kitty?”

“No, no of course not,” Chris says through quiet giggles. “Where the fuck did you get it?”

“My niece. Don’t hate.”

“I’m not. I’m not.” The second time is quieter, less laughter and more fondness, but Sebastian’s eyeing the buns warming in the pan and doesn’t dare look up. “You made me food.”

“You’re not eating enough.”

“Sebastian, that’s not your job.” Seb can’t interpret the emotion in Chris’s voice, and is grateful to slide the buns onto a plate so he can whirl around for emphasis. 

“First of all,” he starts, and is momentarily sidetracked by the blue of Chris’s eyes, “Don’t tell me how to do my damn job,” and his heart is about to run away with his mouth because he starts, “And secondly-”

Maybe Chris senses where that comment is going because he interrupts. “Besides, that doesn’t fit my meal plan _at all_.”

“Fuck your meal plan, Chris. This one meal isn’t going to have that much of an impact, and if anything, you need to gain some weight back.”

“You noticed.”

“Of course.”

“You can’t encourage me to blow that shit off, Seb, I shouldn’t be...”

“What? Full? Healthy? Satiated?”

“Heavy,” he blurts and Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t like me like that.”

“You think that shit has anything to do with why I like you?”

“You like me?”

Jesus, that escalated quickly. Chris looks like a tired puppy dog, and it helps Sebastian reclaims the reins. 

“Sit. You want beer or water?”

“Seb…”

“Chris. Let me take care of you.” It’s not loud or angry, but full of quiet thunder and Sebastian’s honestly a little impressed with himself. Chris grinds his jaw for a moment, then drops into a chair and says, “Beer please.” 

“Good,” he breathes. “Thank you. Lettuce and tomato alright?”

“Fine.” He sounds like an asshole, but when Seb slides into a chair next to him, he’s grinning at the table top. Tapping the necks of their beers together, Seb murmurs, “Bon Appétit,” and takes a bite of his own burger.

Not bad. Just the right amount of garlic and Worcestershire sauce in the meat, and the buns are perfect, just a little crisp. He made fries too, slender slices of potato seasoned and salted and baked to perfection. Chris apparently agrees because he moans around a mouthful. “Oh holy shit this is good.”

“I’m glad.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you could cook?”

Seb shrugs. “You never asked.” He means it lightly, but Chris looks sad all of a sudden. “Hey, hey, I’m not upset. It just never came up.”

“It should’ve.”

“Why would it?”

“I guess...I dunno…” In the silence, Seb ponders the framework of their working relationship, and how it’s changed. He should probably tread carefully. It would be easy to lose his job, though he trusts that Chris wouldn’t tarnish his reputation if they did split up. As employer and employee. Obviously.

It dawns on him then that there’s a reason he doesn’t care, though it could easily cost him his career. He deposits that thought neatly in the furthest recesses of his mind and returns his focus to Chris.

They finish eating, and Seb does dishes while Chris catches up on some work. As he tosses the last spoon into the drying rack he feels his text alert go off for what must be the fifteenth time in as many minutes. He’s willing to bet they’re from Scarlett; he’d made the mistake of mentioning Chris weeks ago and she’s been up his ass about it since. His hands are too soaked to check, so he turns to grab a towel and gets sidetracked by Chris instead. 

He looks good. Not just sexy, but happy, and a little healthier than he has been lately, and Seb is swept with the desire to join him at the table, maybe make some coffee, finish their work together. To stay.

 _...So fuckin’ clingy, ya know…?_

They haven’t spoken in years, but her voice is still crystal clear in his head. Besides. He works for Chris. Mission accomplished, he did what he came to do, got some food in the guy’s stomach, and now...now...

He dries off his hands and tugs his coat from the back of a chair. He should just leave, but because he’s not quite as in control as he’d like to pretend, he puts a hand on the back of Chris’s neck. “Thank you for eating.”

Chris looks up, leaning into Seb’s hand. “You’re leaving?” He sounds upset.

Seb laughs dryly. “Not try’n to overstay my welcome.”

“Where was that sentiment when you broke into my house?” 

Seb smacks him on the shoulder. “Shut up. There were more important priorities.”

“Like?” Chris is grinning up at him cheekily, and Sebastian rallies himself. _You gotta go, Seb._

It still comes out sweeter than he means. “You. G’night, Chris.”

The soft, “Night,” echoes in his chest the whole drive home.

\--

It’s not a sex thing. It’s not. 

Just, sometimes Chris gets anxious, panicky, and Sebastian is equipped to assist.

Back-to-back interviews? “You’re fine, Chris. Stop pacing. STOP. Good. You’ll be great.” 

Said something stupid on TV? “It wasn’t that bad, and besides, your fans love you.” “They shouldn’t.” “Well, they do, get over it.” Chris bristles and let’s it go. 

A bad review? “I’m gonna steal your phone if you don’t quit reading that shit. You know they love to fuck with people. You’re incredible, but ‘Chris Evans, Adorable and Talented Actor Wows Again’ probably isn’t going to move any magazines.” “You think I’m adorable?” “No.” 

He’s still a stubborn asshole, but for some reason, he listens to Sebastian, and that’s enough. 

And sometimes, Chris is a good friend.

“You ok?” He mutters from the side of his mouth, smile plastered on his face for the cameras that are almost certainly following them down the street.

“Fide,” Seb sniffles. They’re on their way to lunch with a director and it’s incredibly public, so despite the terrible head cold, Sebastian put on jeans and a sweater and met up with Chris downtown.

“You sound terrible.”

“Gee, thanks Prince Charbing…”

Chris laughs and Seb rolls his eyes, too tired to argue. About a block from the coffee shop, Chris ducks into a CVS, and Seb dutifully follows, squinting around angrily, daring someone to talk to them. 

“Here,” Chris says, handing him the plastic bag as they exit and Seb grunts, “I’b your bodyguard, dot your PA, carry your owd damn bag.” 

“It’s for you,” Chris murmurs, looking a little uncertain, so Seb takes it. Inside are cough drops, cold medicine, a little pack of tissue, and… a tiny bear holding a heart that says, ‘Get Well Soon.’

“Oh by god,” Seb whispers. 

Profoundly uncomfortable now, Chris shoves his hands in his pockets and grumps, “What?” 

“I’s incurable.”

“What, your cold?”

“No, your damn sappiness.”

“Jesus, Seb.”

Sebastian wants to continue teasing, but a wave of coughing wracks his body and he quickly tears into the lozenges and the medicine as they walk. 

“You know you could’ve taken a day off.”

“And let you wander this sinful city od your owd?”

Chris looks torn between concern and…“You’re unfairly cute for a burly sick dude.”

“I’b...what?” But he’s left standing outside the coffee shop holding a kleenex. It takes him a minute to decide he is simply too sick to process the comment, and waits patiently in line behind Chris to order a tea. 

Throughout the meeting, several people recognize the actor, but Seb has perfected the “Try it at your own risk” expression, and it must be particularly effective on cold medicine because no one even attempts to take photos. Sebastian uses the time to deal with some emails. There are several job offers, one with a particularly steep pay raise. He’s not looking though, so he deletes them.

The conversation pauses as the director excuses himself to the bathroom, and Seb stretches his legs out and takes a long pull of his tea. It burns his throat in the best way and he shivers. Absently, Chris reaches out and runs a hand up his back and down again, warm and comforting and Seb can’t help it, he sighs. 

Chris glances up with a small smile. “Feelin’ any better?”

“The tea helped. And the medicine. Thanks.”

“Thanks for coming with me, you stubborn bastard.”

Instead of a retort, Seb gestures to the recently vacated chair at their table. “What do you think about his proposal?”

“I dunno.” Chris runs a hand through his hair. “It sounds really…”

“Good? Cool? Interesting? Exciting?”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Involved. High visibility.”

Seb is confused. “And you don’t want the stress?”

“I’m just…” Chris clears the discomfort from his throat. “Wondering if they’re interviewing the right guy.”

“Are you for fucking real.” He can’t even muster the energy to make it a question. Ridiculous. “Chris, of course they are. You’re insanely talented.”

“Thanks, but I’ve never done anything this big. I mean, the fans of these comics are...well, fanatic. What if I fuck it up?”

“What if you’re everything they ever dreamed of in their starry-eyed, emotional, fan-hearts?”

“Ha.” It’s hollow, like Chris can’t even fathom that as the truth. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Sebastian mutters, standing for a refill.

“Shit, tell me how you really feel,” Chris grunts, pissy.

He leans in, towering over the actor, in his space, close enough that he can speak in a whisper and Chris still hears clear as day. “I _feel_ that you’re allowing your anxiety to sabotage a great opportunity. I _feel_ like you’re more than capable of tackling this role. I _feel_ like you need to give yourself some goddamn credit once in awhile. You’re much more than a pretty face, and I’m not the only one who knows that. You’re not a coward, Chris. Quit acting like one.”

Seb straightens, a little dizzy, and wonders belatedly if he’d have had the balls to say that without cold medicine flooding his system, and if it was too harsh, but there’s no taking it back now. The director returns and Seb gives a little nod on his way to the counter, gets his tea, and creeps back to the table, pausing behind a partition to listen. 

“Alright. I’m in,” Chris murmurs. “Just one modification to the contract.”

“I’m so pleased,” the guy says. “What’s the change?”

Seb hears how Chris’s voice starts uncertain, but he doubts the director does, and it fills out quickly. “The salary seems a little low for this size commitment. I’d say a twenty percent increase would be appropriate.” 

There’s a pause. “Ten.”

“Fifteen.”

“Agreed.” 

“Welcome aboard, Captain,” the director grins, and by the time Sebastian returns to his seat, the director has collected his things and is talking rapid fire into his phone as he leaves.

They sit in silence, Seb staring at the steam rising from his tea, Chris staring at the edge of the table.

“I’m sorry if that was too harsh,” Seb mutters into his mug.

Chris makes an aborted little noise of dissent in his throat. “I took the job,” he says finally.

“I’m proud of you,” Seb replies. 

Chris jerks his head up to look at him. “It’s a big responsibility.”

“You'll be fine.”

“Will you stick around? For that?”

“If you want me.” Again with the cold medicine speaking for him.

Chris hasn’t had any, so he doesn’t respond, but he does steady Seb by the waist when he sways on the sidewalk, hand sliding firmly into place.

\--

It shouldn’t be surprising. Chris is invited to dozens of these events a year, maybe even hundreds, and people kind of expect him to bring a date. He does. She’s lovely.

She’s lovely, but Chris is breathtaking in a silver suit. He chats up the crowd easily, all charm and laughter, and everyone is infatuated. It’d be difficult not to be, really.

Seb sets his jaw and stands to the side, hands crossed in front of him. He scans the crowd, but security’s pretty solid tonight, so he’s not terribly concerned. He wishes there were something else to focus on, actually, but instead all he has to think about is the dull ache in his chest and how dumb he is for falling for some famous guy. 

_“There’re so many people,” Chris had muttered, staring out the limo window._

_“Always are.” Chris’s leg was bouncing though, the nonchalance was ineffective, and Sebastian had put his hand on the other man’s knee. “Breathe, Chris. You’re fine.”_

_“Don’t patronize me.”_

_“Quit being an ass. I know you’re anxious. It’s ok to be anxious. Just...remember to breathe, and smile, and if you need me...well, you know.”_

_The movement in Chris’s body finally stopped and he had glanced down at Seb’s hand, unreadable until Seb removed the offending body part._

_But then he’d smiled, nervous and sweet, and said. “Yeah. Ok. Thanks.” Taken a deep breath. Stepped out into the throng._

Now he’s whispering something in his date’s ear and she laughs. His returning smile says, “I know, right?” 

Chris wins the award. In the limo ride over he’d made a comment about how it’s just a popularity contest, but when his name is announced he smiles for real, eyes crinkling and Seb claps the loudest.

Chris’s speech is professional and witty and just a little douche-y, and he kisses her when he sits back down, grinning. 

As Seb opens the door to the limo for them he tries not to think about the previous weekend when he and Chris got drunk and raced Rainbow Road so many times they collapsed into fits of laughter. 

He’s gotta quit forgetting: he’s a business asset. 

\--

He’s deliberate after that, takes good care of Chris and keeps himself tucked away. Makes sure Chris eats, checks over his fan mail, remains tirelessly vigilant at every press conference, every awards show.

He fucking good at his job, after all. 

The holiday party ends up being actually kind of fun. It’s at Chris’s house, and because the rest of the cast and crew know Seb so well he ends up joining as a guest instead of a worker. The eggnog is spiked, and they’re all good people. He even lets himself smile once or twice. 

One of the grips is an ex friend-with-benefits, and he and Seb get to talking amiably. Sebastian does his level best to ignore Chris, and it mostly works, except for he looks fucking divine in the goofy Christmas sweater he’s wearing.

“You with him?” Brad asks when he catches Sebastian staring.

“Nah.”

“You wanna be?”

“Yeah. But...you know.” 

“Yeah man. I get it.” He bumps shoulders with Seb companionably, and kindly changes the subject. 

The last of the group clears out around one in the morning, early for them, but most of the actors have flights to catch in a few hours. Brad is one of the last to leave and he hugs Sebastian tightly. “Take care of yourself, Stan.”

“You too,” he grunts tiredly into his shoulder, and waves as they stumble down the drive. 

Seb realizes he’s sadly sober, and also that even though he’s not on duty tonight, he’d stayed to keep an eye out, just in case. When did he turn into such a worry wart?

He’s tossing empties into a garbage bag when Chris comes into the kitchen, biting his lip.

“You ok?” Seb asks at the same time he says, “How’d you know that guy?”

Blinking in surprise, Sebastian tells the truth as he goes back to cleaning. “He were together for a little bit. Nice guy.”

“You fucked him?”

“Uh...yeah? Couple’a times.” Seb manages to clear an entire counter in the silence that follows, and he finally turns to Chris who looks pissed. “What do you care?” Seb shrugs. 

“I…I don’t…” Chris stares down at his hands helplessly.

“You don’t get to be jealous,” Sebastian spits, surprising them both. “You fucked a girl _behind_ me in the fucking limo. You don’t get to-” He’s shaking so hard he figures it’s best to quit while he’s ahead.

“But you don’t…”

“Don’t what, Chris? Like you?” Exasperated, he continues. “I don’t. You drive me crazy.” 

“Well fuck you, too, Stan.” Does he look disappointed?

“You’re a piece of fuckin’ work,” Seb snaps as he drops the bag and strides over to where Chris is standing in the threshold in that ridiculous sweater. “You know that? You’re all sweet and weird and gorgeous, and you’re not even fucking _out_ , and you let me into this twisted, incredible supernova that is your mind, and then expect me to keep my distance? That’s not even fucking fair.”

“Fair?” Chris shouts.

“That I can’t have you! That I can get _this fuckin’ close_ ,” and he leans in, chest centimeters from Chris’s. “But I can’t have you.”

“Have me?” It’s a whisper now, and Seb is glaring so he sees when something in Chris’s eyes just...snaps.

The blonde closes the distance between them with such force that Seb makes a tiny little noise of surprised arousal. Hands moving of their own accord he anchors himself at Chris’s ribs and grips tight. When air becomes an issue he breaks away, panting to stare wide-eyed.

Chris looks gorgeous, color high in his cheeks, clothes rumpled. There’s no conversation, but his eyes issue a challenge all the same. 

Sebastian should be smart about this. He’s already in too deep, playing with fire, and he looks tough but the heart he keeps tucked away is paper and linen and Chris could engulf him in the space of a breath. But for all the shit he talks, self-preservation has never really been one of Seb’s strong suits, so he fits their mouths back together, taking his time. Especially if he only gets one shot at this, he wants to memorize every facet of Chris Evans, worship every beautiful idiosyncrasy. 

They stumble back into the doorframe, and Seb pins him there, but Chris fists the bottom of his sweater and drags him to the couch. 

Seb pushes Chris down, grinning as he bounces against the cushions before straddling him, cupping his face and kissing him again, rough and deep for long enough that they’re both hard in their jeans, and when Sebastian pulls back, the sight absolutely floors him.

Chris is smiling, but he looks wrecked, and it’s not just the fact that his hair is mussed from Sebastian’s hands, or the way his mouth is shiny and red. He’s _affected_ in a way that he isn’t with any of the women Seb’s ever seen him with. He’s not calm and collected. He’s not suave. 

He’s panting. His hands are shaking a little. He’s so fucking sexy, Seb can’t help himself, he rips that fantastically terrible Christmas sweater up over Chris’s head.

“You too,” Chris gripes breathlessly, and Seb grins and complies. The frenzy pauses for a moment as Chris runs his hands over Sebastian’s body, wide-eyed. He starts at Seb’s collarbone, then feather light drifts to caress Seb’s chest, his abs, leaving trails of goose bumps behind.

“Holy shit you’re incredible,” he whispers and Seb’s smile turns shy. Chris fits strong fingers against his ribs then hips looking awed, and it occurs to Seb that for as often as he’s seen Chris shirtless, he himself is rarely in less than two layers around the guy. As Chris replaces his fingers with his tongue, Seb thinks maybe he’ll go without more often, and tilts his head back to lose himself in the feeling of moist velvet sliding up his sternum, his neck, then back down where gentle teeth tug at his nipple. 

“Shit, Chris,” he gasps, rocking his hips, and the man beneath him groans and fumbles at Seb’s zipper. 

“Off,” he mutters, and Seb slides off his legs to stand. The reflex is to rip all his clothing off as fast as possible so he can get back to driving this beautiful man out of his mind, but then he sees the way Chris is looking at him, one corner of his mouth quirked up, swollen from where Seb’s teeth had abused it. He’s fucking radiant, pure enjoyment dancing in his eyes, open and full and happy in a way Sebastian never sees in front of cameras.

That smile is doing things to him, ripping his heart out through his throat, but he never wants it to stop. Slowly, slowly he tugs his jeans down and off and kicks them to the side, but leaves his boxer briefs on. He’s so hard there’s not much left to the imagination. With patience he doesn’t really have, Seb walks forward to stand between Chris’s knees, takes the other man’s fingers and tucks them into the waistband.

Looking like he’s been given a gift, Chris slowly slides the underwear down Seb’s thighs, and the noise he makes as Seb’s cock springs free has Sebastian tackling him backward and sliding back into his lap with purpose. 

Chris licks his palm and slicks it over both of them, and Seb shudders forward even further, but it’s Chris who glances down and whispers, “Please.”

Seb wraps his fingers over Chris’s and they move together, sloppy and frantic, foreheads pressed together. 

“Seb-” he gasps.

“I know, baby.”

“You’re so…”

“I got you.”

“I can’t...I’m…”

“Come for me Chris.” It’s a command if he’s ever heard one, and Chris obeys immediately.

Chris is shaking and Seb’s muscles have temporarily declared a moratorium on movement so they stay there, breathing each other’s air. 

“Seb, you’re fuckin’ incredible.” 

He can't hear that, Chris doesn't really mean that, but he feels too good to ruin it. “Back atcha, big guy.”

“I’m not joking.”

Seb separates them by the minimum space required to see Chris’s whole face in one glance. “I wasn’t either, Chris. Wanted you forever, and you’re so talented, so sexy-” Chris makes a broken little sound between them but Seb keeps going. “Better than I imagined, and you better believe I imagined,” he finishes with a wink. 

“Yeah?” Chris seems grateful for something lighthearted to cling to, then abandons it in favor of what he really wants to say. “Will you stay the night?”

Sebastian can give him this, this instant of vulnerability, and he brushes his thumb over the blond’s lips too lovingly as he murmurs, “Oh Chris. Of course.”

\--

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Seb murmurs sullenly. Scar is relentless.

“Of course. You fuck ‘im yet?”

“Jesus.”

“What? All of a sudden you’re offended by my honesty?”

“No! No. And no, we haven’t.”

“Oh shit.” She sounds concerned.

“What? Oh shit, what?”

“You like this guy.”

“I told you that months ago.”

“No. You told me he was hot months ago.”

“Still is. Present tense.”

“Now, you like him.”

“Sure.”

“You want him.”

“I just said-”

“You love that boy, Sebastian Stan?”

They’ve know each other long enough that his silence is a more direct answer than anything he could’ve said.

\--

“You’re overthinking it.”

“I am not.”

“You are. Stop thinking. You’re a coordinated guy. Just...feel it.”

“That’s some hippie-ass bullshit right there, Seb. ‘Feel it’ my ass.”

“I mean, I can, if you want,” Seb teases and slides his hand down Chris’s hip to slap his butt. 

“Fuckin’ distracting.”

“It’s just like tap dancing.”

“Except not at all.”

This whole situation is incredible, actually. Chris has to learn to waltz for a scene he’s doing tomorrow and has been putting it off forever. When he’d broken into a panic yesterday and Seb offered to teach the step, Chris asked how he knew it. Sebastian had learned as a kid from his ma, and it’s a skill that comes in handy more often than you’d think. There had been a strange pause in which Chris had stared at him, breath coming just a touch faster, awe on his face, until Seb couldn’t bear it any longer dragged him to his feet. He doesn’t deserve to be looked at like that. It’s exhilarating though, to be the nobody that gets to teach Chris Fucking Evans to dance.

“You wanna learn the damn waltz or not?”

“Want to? No. Need to? Unfortunately. So. Lead away.”

Seb tries, a couple of times, but Chris is a fuckin’ statue. Arguing is useless though, so, brilliant strategist that he is, he tries something different. 

“You have the sexiest arms I’ve ever seen.”

“What?”

“It’s true. And I’m a connoisseur.” 

Chris blushes. On the right track then. Seb sways his weight from one foot to the other, keeping his hands planted on Chris. 

“And your eyes? I mean fuck. How am I ever supposed to tell you ‘no’ when you look at me with those beautiful eyes.”

“Would you shut the fuck up?”

Seb shakes his head and takes a step. Chris follows reflexively. 

“Can’t. You’re fuckin’ criminal in a tuxedo, but something about you in jeans and a sweater is just as sexy, maybe more. You’re softer, more accessible.” Another step. “If you’re ever trying to convince me of something, wear that blue sweater and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Noted. You’re selling your trade secrets here,” Chris teases, following as Seb takes a few more steps.

“Worth it.”

“Why?” 

“Well, first of all, you’re gorgeous when you blush,” which he promptly does again, “And second, I win. You’re waltzing.”

Sure enough, Chris is following the pattern Seb sets with ease, body lose and lithe. He’s staring at Seb like there’s something magical about him, but there’s not. If anything, he’s just sneaky.

They keep dancing though, laughing and flirting through a few songs, until Chris starts getting handsy. He squeezes at Sebastian’s hips possessively and there’s a glint in his eyes that makes Seb a little nervous.

“What?”

“What?” Chris echoes with faux innocence. 

“What’s with the face?"

“No clue what you’re talking about.”

“Chris!” Seb gripes, but all he gets is a shrug, and another eighteen beats of waltz step. They’re getting kind of close to the living room wall, but when Seb tries to steer them away, Chris slams him back into the drywall by his shoulders.

“Don’t move.”

“Fuck you.”

“Some day. But for now, I’m gonna suck your cock, Sebastian.”

“Oh my god,” Seb breathes, and lets his head fall back with a thump.

Chris isn’t kidding, and it quickly becomes apparent that Seb is not the first man Chris has been with. He’s not sure how he feels about that, but when Chris’s mouth closes around him, heat and pressure, he finds he doesn’t have many brain cells left to worry about it. 

At first, he tries to keep his eyes squeezed tight, certain the visual would have him coming embarrassingly quickly, and he succeeds for a few minutes, but then Chris makes this fucking noise, a whimpering moan so deep in his chest that Seb can feel it in his cock, and he loses his resolve.

Chris is kneeling at his feet, cheeks red, hair pushed back from his forehead, and he’s staring up at Sebastian, almost unblinking, and that’s what gets him: those wide blue eyes and the unwavering attention of such a powerful man, and Seb’s knees buckle.

Chris’s forearm snaps up and pins Seb up against the wall by his hips, breathtakingly strong, thankfully because Seb is shaking. Through his haze he can see that Chris is painfully hard against the denim.

“Unzip your jeans,” Seb pants, and Chris groans. “Now.” Free hand fumbling, Chris finally manages to pop the button and without being asked, takes his cock out. “Good, so fuckin’ beautiful. Touch yourself.” Chris is beet red now, embarrassed or aroused, but Seb doesn’t let up. “Come on, Chris. Wanna see you.”

When he finally complies, Seb feels the kneeling man’s mouth go slack for a moment around him, then return with doubled vigor.

“Ooooh fuck Chris, ‘m not gonna last like this.” And he doesn’t. Short minutes that stretch like eons later he comes with a shout and Chris finally lets him slide down to his knees. Chris’s mouth is swollen and incredible looking, and he’s so close, big eyes and hitched breaths and twitching hips. He looks at Seb’s and in the most fucked-out voice groans, “Sebastian…”

It’s like a prayer and Seb leans in and kisses him fiercely just as he starts to come, long and hard until he’s curled, panting, against Seb’s chest. Shy, Chris looks up and murmurs, “Thanks for indulging me.”

Seb huffs. “Oh of course,” he teases. “No trouble at all.” 

\--

“And how about your love life, Mr. Evans? We saw you with the lovely Lily Collins at the most recent awards show. Are you two involved?”

Chris smiles, suave and sure. “No, no, Lily’s a good friend.”

“So is there anyone else in your life?”

Seb is off to the side, but not nearly far enough away to miss Chris’s face freezing for just a minute, then he busts out that good ol’ boy grin and winks at her. 

“I think I might be too much for one person to handle, you know?”

She laughs prettily and the interview goes on.

Seb carefully turns off his brain, and switches back to military mode.

\--

“Seb?” 

“Mm?”

“You ok?”

Sebastian blinks away from the window and over to Chris. “Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

He’s not. Not at all. The actual Chris Evans is not a suave control freak. He’s sweet and silly and sexy. He’s intoxicating, addicting, and Sebastian gets to see that side of him almost every day now, hidden behind the doors of dressing rooms, or in quiet moments in the limo, or nestled on the couch. The worst part is, if Sebastian had never known, this would all be easier. If he’d kept his damn distance, he really would be fine. 

Actually, that’s not even the worst part. The worst part is that even though he’s pretty sure he’s going to have to turn into a robot to avoid these feelings, even though his heart aches, if he got a second chance, a do over, he wouldn’t change a thing.

“Ok.” Chris gives him a tight smile. “You wanna head back to my place?”

Seb mulls for a moment. He shouldn’t. It’s just gonna hurt.

“Alright.”

They order a pizza, turn on the TV, and in spite of Sebastian’s sadness, he doesn’t actually want to stop touching Chris, so when the blond reaches for him, he reaches right back. He doesn’t move quick enough though, and with a grin, Chris slides his body over Seb’s. 

The TV is mumbling softly in the background, and a hundred pizza guys could be on the stoop ringing the doorbell right now, and he’d have no clue, because Chris is...Chris is…

Propped on his elbows, staring down at Sebastian with such warmth, such softness. Seb squeezes his hips tightly, wondering why his eyes are hot all of a sudden, when Chris runs gentle fingers through Seb’s hair as he leans down to kiss him. 

There’s no urgency in this kiss, no anxiety, but there is no lacking in intensity. Chris’s lips caress Sebastian’s almost chastely as his thumbs cradle the brunette’s head in place. Seb doesn’t feel trapped by the frame of the man surrounding him. He feels grounded. Home. 

A sigh escapes him and Chris smiles against his mouth. “You make the prettiest noises,” he whispers, and Seb scoffs. “I’m serious, Sebastian. You’re captivating.” 

_Not captivating enough. You’ll get bored eventually._

The doorbell saves him, though just before Chris gets up Seb swears he sees sadness flash in those beautiful blue eyes.

They end up on the carpeted floor of the living room, having eaten so much pizza they can barely move, and Seb loves that Chris let himself have this. He’s glad he gets to have it, too.

They’ve been lazily chatting over the TV for the past hour or so, about work, about politics, about Sebastian’s family and their reaction to his sexuality, so it’s not off topic for Seb to ask, “You think you’ll ever come out?” 

He isn’t trying to pick a fight, he’s just curious as to how Chris identifies and what his plans are for the future. It’s not like they’ve talked about any further developments in their relationship, and Seb has made a point of not asking, but this seems like a roundabout way to discern some of that information.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sebastian sees him stiffen. 

“Why do you ask?” It’s weird, because he sounds pissed, but there’s something else there. Hope?

“Just curious.”

Chris answers slowly, pronouncing each word with emphasis. “Just. Curious?”

“Yes?” Seb’s confused now, and props himself up on his elbow to see Chris properly.

“It’s none of your damn business.” It’s not untrue, but the tone he uses is so biting that Seb flinches back a little.

“Jesus, man. Chill out.”

“Fuck you.”

Sebastian sits, up, suddenly cold. “Chris, what is your problem?” 

“Problem? I don’t have a problem. What, you _want_ me to come out or something?” Is he asking permission? 

Seb can’t really answer that question, can’t tell him what to do on this one. Or he could, but it’d expose a depth of affection he’s been looking to avoid, an affection that Chris clearly doesn’t want. But he’s not going to lie. He’s biting his lip and trying to figure out an evasive maneuver when Chris renders that unnecessary.

“You want people to know about us?” It’s accusatory, and Seb should think about what he’s saying, it’s all so delicately balanced, but the only thing that comes to mind is the thing he’s been telling himself and Scarlett for months. 

“I wasn’t aware there was an us.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as cold as it does, but it freezes the room, the air, the breath, the men in it.

“Get out.”

Sebastian wants to ask, ‘What?’ He wants to say, ‘Don’t do this.’ He wants to tell Chris that just because they aren’t together doesn’t mean they’re not supposed to be. 

But perhaps it’s better this way. At some point, Chris would realized how far down the ladder Sebastian is in comparison, that he’s just some kid who grew up defending himself from the kids that ostracized him for his accent, fighting off bullies who didn’t understand things that were different, and just ended up being good at it. So really, this is a favor, and easy out. It’s a goodbye.

He knows it’s for the best, but he still collects his things and leaves without a word. It’s not that he’s unsure of his decision. It’s his ability to speak without weeping that he’s less certain of.

\--

“Sebastian.”

“Mr. Evans,” he says steadily into the phone. He made his decision. No need to make it more difficult.

“What can I do for you?” Chris’s voice sounds just as even.

“I’d like to formally give my two weeks notice. I’ve submitted the paperwork to your agent along with a list of recommendations and information for replacements.”

“You’re quitting?” Now there’s an emotion in Chris’s voice, but Seb doesn’t know what it is. 

“Yes, sir.”

He should’ve, but Sebastian just wasn’t expecting the double beep signaling the end of the cell call. Chris hung up on him.

\--

“Scar?” Silence on the other end of the phone is unlike her. 

“You quit?”

“It was getting out of hand.”

“The relationship or your feelings?”

“There was no relationship. I told you that in the beginning.”

“You told yourself that, too. To bad neither of us believed you.”

He sighs. He didn’t call for a lecture. He’s at the ass end of a two week pity party, almost numb with sadness. He hasn’t looked for another job, though he should.

“Sebastian-”

“Scar, I’ll talk to you later.”

She lets him off the hook. He must sound terrible. She never does that. 

It’s time to leave anyway, headed to his last event as Chris Evans’s bodyguard. Tomorrow, he’ll be unemployed as well as heartbroken. 

The awards show is prestigious, and Seb is glad he’s still around for this one. It’s high risk, lots of opportunities for things to go wrong. Besides, he’ll never pass up the opportunity to see Chris in a suit. 

They’ve had a few events together the past two weeks. At each one, Sebastian scans the crowd. Chris looks at him sometimes, but Seb tries never to look back. They don’t talk. 

Sebastian has a loop on repeat in his head. ‘For the best, it’s for the best, it’s for the best…’

Chris had tried to talk to him, actually, a few days ago, during a photo op. He’d said, “Sebastian,” and Seb had said, “Yes, sir.” 

“You know my name,” he’d scolded softly, but Seb had just nodded and answered, “What do you need, sir?” 

Chris had nothing to say, but his hand was shaking as he signed a picture for someone. Seb ached to calm him. But no. That’s not his job anymore. Anymore? It had never been.

So tonight, he enters the hall behind Chris a pace, and walks him to his table. As Seb begins to move to his post against the wall, Chris wraps strong fingers around his wrist. “Sebastian.” His voice is tired. Seb tugs his hand away, missing the warmth of the other man immediately. “Whatever happens...don’t...don’t leave, ok?”

Insulted, Seb turns back around. “I would never.”

Chris shrugged. “You did before.”

Exasperated and weary, Seb snaps, “You told me to,” and moves away swiftly.

The night drags. The space on Seb’s wrist where Chris’s hand had rested won’t stop tingling. He wants to cry. He wants it to be tomorrow already. He wants to get drunk. He wants to go back in time to before he fucked himself up.

Chris’s category is called, and that snaps Seb back into the present moment. Tension hovers over the crowd as each nominee is listed, and the pause before the winner is announced is so heavy Seb is pretty sure his heart stops beating. 

He’s completely unsurprised, and completely thrilled, when Chris’s name is called, and gives a grin and a thumbs up when they lock eyes as Chris makes his way to the stage. Chris smiles back, confusingly, terrifyingly not in character, not the charmer extraordinaire, just Chris as he is, sweet and silly and nervous, and Seb quirks his head questioningly, but the blond is already trotting up the steps to the stage.

He accepts the award graciously, beaming, but when he gets to the microphone his smile tightens and he takes a deep breath.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s an honor to receive this award, especially when the other nominees are so awe-inspiring.” His voice sounds a little weird, and Seb creeps forward along the periphery just in case Chris has a panic attack or something.

“I...I have to thank everyone involved in the production for making me look so good,” and laughter scatters the hall, “And ask their forgiveness for not thanking them by name, because as important as this film is, and this job is, I need this time to talk about something even more important.”

Sebastian is frowning so hard his face hurts as he fights to shove down something rising in his chest, either vomit or hope, but which he’s genuinely unsure.

The silence hangs heavy. Promising.

“I wanted to use this opportunity to come out publicly as bisexual, for two reasons.” There are a few gasps, and Sebastian can see where Chris is white-knuckling the podium, but no one interrupts. “The first is that I want to use this visibility to stand in solidarity with the LGBT community. We are real. We matter. We are not making it up or asking for attention. We love who we love, and no one should have to apologize for that.” That gets a fierce round of applause, and some whistles. “Which brings me to reason number two. I..uh...I fell in love recently. With an incredible man. And if he ends up being dumb enough to date me, I want him to get credit for putting up with the most ridiculous control freak on the planet as a boyfriend. So. Thank you for this incredible award. I dedicate it to the LGBT community, and to the man who helped me grow a pair and take my place in it. I love you, Seb.”

He grins, and bounces back down the stairs. 

Sebastian, in contrast to Chris’s kinetic energy, is standing stock still, tears streaming down his face and dripping off his jaw. The room is going crazy, it sounds like a fucking explosion, but all he can think about is the way Chris looks striding across the floor toward him. 

“Why are you crying?” he asks, taking Sebastian’s face in his hands and wiping the tears away with his thumbs. 

Seb shakes his head and tries to speak a number of times but each time a shudder or a sob gets in the way, until he can finally bite out, “You’re an asshole.” 

Chris rolls his eyes, and he’s smiling, but Sebastian can see the nervousness that remains. “Go big or go home,” he offers, shrugging. 

“Home,” Sebastian echoes. “Could we? Go home?” He makes sure the ‘we’ is audible.

Chris kisses him so hard their teeth knock together, then takes his hand, and leads them out of the hall.

\--

One Year Later

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. What were you thinking? What was _I_ thinking?” Chris is lying on his back in their bed, hands over his eyes, freaking the fuck out.

Sebastian could tell Chris that he’s an incredible actor. He could tell him that they’ll be together for most of the day, that Seb is coming to the table read for moral support. He could tell Chris what he told him that day in the coffee shop: that he needs to give himself more credit. But Sebastian’s really more of a kinesthetic kind of guy, and sometimes Chris needs someone to pull him out of his own head.

From where he’s standing at the end of the bed Seb grabs Chris’s ankles and yanks hard. He gives an undignified yelp, but doesn’t have time to comment because Seb manhandles him onto his stomach and gets his knees under him. Seb yanks Chris’s sweatpants down to catch at his knees against the mattress and Chris finally gets with the program.

“Ooh fuck, baby. Really? I have work in two hours.”

Seb grins and squeezes his ass. “I wonder how many times I could make you come in two hours.” Chris groans and drops his head to his forearms. More seriously Sebastian continues, “I can’t let you go to work forgetting how beautiful you are. How incredible.” He licks a from Chris’s balls to his lower back, then back down to his hole. “Can’t have you forgetting.”

“Seb,” Chris whines and Seb groans at the neediness in his voice.

“I know, sweetheart. I got you.”

He does. He knows exactly what Chris needs. Slow and sloppy, Seb opens him up, first with his tongue and then with his fingers. There’s no point where Sebastian’s hands are not dancing over Chris’s skin, scratching, stroking, playing him like an instrument. When Chris is dripping wet and whimpering, Seb finally fucks into him, bringing him to the edge, but not over, for almost an hour. Chris alternates between cussing him out and begging, and both are like music to Seb’s ears. When Chris is nearing his breaking point his breaths get short and sharp and Sebastian worries about him passing out, so at the first sign of those little panting inhalations he flips Chris on his back and presses back in, folding him almost in half with his shoulder’s beneath the blond’s knees. 

He’s so fuckin’ beautiful like this, sweaty, desperate. Vulnerable. Honest. 

Chris keeps saying Seb’s name, and Sebastian tells him how gorgeous he is, how good, and the truth of the words are getting to both of them. He wants to draw it out as long as possible, but in the end, it’s Sebastian who gets overwhelmed. Chris is too perfect, too lovely, and Seb feels his own eyes grow wet, love and gratitude. They fall apart together, Chris crying out as he comes and Seb gritting his teeth and pressing his forehead into Chris’s chest..

Eventually, they peel out of the bed and pour themselves into the shower. Seb makes breakfast, Chris scans the script, they eat standing up at the island in the kitchen, hip to hip. At half past, Seb pulls on his coat and holds out his hand. “You ready, Captain America?” Chris laughs and slides their palms together. “Are you?”

“Baby, I was born ready,” Seb sasses, and they make their way out the door. It’s not true. It took thirty years and a stubborn Adonis who refused to leave him alone. He wasn’t born ready. But he is now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Shoot me a comment or visit me at seasless.tumblr.com.
> 
> <3


End file.
